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Mother’s last illness was a never-to-be-forgotten experience
for this daughter who adored her. She had been plagued
with headaches for as long as I can remember. They grew
more frequent and severe hen I was nine to eleven years
old. I remember specifically one Saturday afternoon.
Daddy had gone to “town” (Loraine) for supplies. Mother
was in bed with one of her headaches. I went into her
room and found her hallucinating (we called it ‘talking
out of her head’). I was so scared. Daddy came home
shortly. I don’t remember the events chronologically
but do remember the months that she spent in the hospital
in Temple and Colorado City, Texas. This was a period
of mid-summer 1932 to November 1933, when she died in
Colorado City. For about eight months she was in a coma.
I remember Daddy sending Western Union telegrams almost
every day to Grandmother and Grandaddy Garret with news
of her condition. I spent those months hither and yon
– with grandparents in the summer months and with neighbors
during the school year. This was before blood banks
were available. Daddy gave fourteen transfusions to
Mother. Daddy’s health suffered during this dark period.
In October, 1933 Mother came out of the coma and was
returned home. I remember so clearly sitting by her
bedside talking and talking. It was like someone had
come home from a long journey. She was full of questions
about the details of my life while she had been away.
She told me of her experiences while she had been “away”.
She remembers seeing some indescribably beautiful scenes
and hearing lovely music. I am convinced that she was
describing a time during her coma when she had been
very close to heaven. For about two weeks she was lucid
and we were so hopeful. Then she lapsed back into unconsciousness.
She was taken to the Colorado City Hospital. Daddy rented
a room in a private residence across the hospital for
us. The neighbors took care of Daddy’s farming during
these months – in the true pioneer “barn-raising” spirit.
Daddy spent most of his time in the hospital with Mother,
especially during that last two or three-week period.
I came and went. To this day the sound of train whistles
make me feel sad – from those nights in that room when
I would hear the trains going through town. The doctors
said that her life was prolonged by her “will to live”
– she so wanted to raise her child. But this was not
to be.
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 (August 2, 1931) This is the last picture we have of mother before her final illness. Left to right: Maola, Grandaddy and Grandmother Garrett, Mother and I, Aunt Gradys, Uncle Merlin, and Harold. |
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